


Shawn's Guide To The Real Supernatural

by TerraZeal



Category: Psych, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Ferali, First Blade, Knight(s) of Hell, M/M, Mark of Cain, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraZeal/pseuds/TerraZeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn is confused when strange FBI agents along with their partner in the dirty trenchcoat show up about a case of a bear attack. Shawn ends up even more confused when he learns the supernatural really IS real. Yes, Lassie is here as a main character. His name is on the list. Just not his Psych name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**AN:** Because I had to. If you understand and know ALL the characters and actors, all the better, but you don't need to to understand the story. Just realize that the supernatural and such is REAL in this version of the Psych universe. Takes place in season 7 of Psych, before Juliet finds out Shawn isn't a real psychic. AU, remember, if you find any 'mistakes'._

 

 

_**Shawn's Guide to the real Supernatural** _

 

 

Shawn impatiently tapped the Chief's desk, drumming on a pineapple that had mysteriously appeared. The Chief calls him down for something really important and then ends up being _late?_ Really? Shawn sighed and stood up.

 

Gus was down the hall flirting with one of the newest female officers, an attractive older woman with mussed dark hair and dark eyes with circles under them. If Shawn wasn't with Jules, he definitely would have made a move before Gus. She really was attractive despite the unkempt look and age.

 

Apparently the woman was here because she was a transfer. She had been a sheriff where she had worked before, but had been relocated to become a detective. Shawn guessed the tears were because her brother or friend had been attacked and killed by an unknown woodland beast, possibly a bear or a wolf, Shawn guessed, from seeing Woody's first pictures of the body. The victim's entire corpse had been ripped to shreds by something with HUGE claws. Not just bear-huge. Something-else huge.

 

She had been immediately removed from duty the minute her brother was carted into the morgue with the odd wounds. She was very upset and had demanded the Chief and Head Detective Lassie to be on the case to find her brother's killer. She had, of course, been denied.

 

Shawn glanced around for the Chief again and headed toward Gus when he realized she was nowhere in sight. He pushed Gus away from the woman.

 

“Hi. Shawn Spencer. Local psychic detective. As you must know by now. I know you've only been here a few days, but my reputation precedes me! I will find out who killed your brother, I promise!” He held out his hand to her.

 

She glanced at it, with a mildly disgusted look on her face. “He was a dear friend who convinced me to transfer here. He wasn't my brother. And you, sir, are not a real psychic. I have met psychics. I have met witches and mystics. You are not one of them. So please, do not further insult my intelligence by pretending.” She scoffed and turned her head away, refusing to look at Shawn.

 

“Uhm...I just...I AM a real psychic. The entire police department can vouch for me! Really! I'm totally legit. Here, give me your palm. I'll read you.” The woman glanced up, gave a smile that was more akin to a smirk and held out her calloused palm.

 

Shawn carefully ran his eyes over the woman. She was still wearing her police outfit, but it was mussed and looked as if she'd slept in it. She was also much younger than he'd first assumed. Stress, it seemed, had aged her prematurely. She was also in love. Her eyes could tell Shawn that much, easily. He'd seen the faces of people so deeply in love they couldn't hide it. Was it her co-worker that she had fallen in love with? Shawn wasn't able to immediately tell.

 

“You, ma'am-” Shawn began, but was interrupted by the woman.

 

“Do not call me ma'am. My name is Detective Jody Mills. Or will be, as soon as they can figure out what happened to my co-worker and give me my badge back. If you will leave me alone, I'm waiting for my agents.” She waved a hand dismissively.

 

“Agents? What agents? I didn't know no agents were coming here? What kind? Like, CIA?” This from Gus, who was apparently excited about CIA agents making an appearance.

 

“FBI. Go. I have no time for liars like you.” Her dark stare, unwavering, just like a detective, convinced them to leave. They both headed back to the Chief's office. Vick was nowhere to be found yet.

 

“Gus. That detective. She totally knows. What are we gonna do? She's going to rat us out!”

 

“Dude, she's one detective. She doesn't know. She'd have to find concrete evidence, such as an actual REAL psychic, which we know don't exist, to prove you're a fake. Shh, here comes the Chief. And...it looks like FBI agents, and a REALLY hot blind chick.” Gus ran a hand over his bald head and straightened his shirt, even though the woman with the dark glasses obviously could not see due to the walking cane she used.

 

The trio entered the office. Chief Vick sat down at her desk, smiling placidly at everyone present. To Shawn's delight, Lassie was not here. It also meant that his Jules wasn't here either, but he supposed it was a fair trade.

 

The Chief took a seat at her desk and motioned for the agents and the blind woman to do the same. The shorter agent, with a strong face and dark, slightly spiked hair declined and asked, “Chief, is there any way we can see the body? Like, right now? We're kind of in a hurry.”

 

The Chief frowned at the agents. “I understand that, somehow, a wolf attack is a government matter, but please, at least listen to me before making requests. I would like to introduce our psychic, Shawn Spencer, and his partner, Burton Guster.”

 

The blind woman's gaze seemed to sweep over Shawn and penetrate his soul, despite her having no eyes to do so with. She smiled at him. She was gorgeous, Shawn noticed. Thick black curls tumbled around her perfect face and very, _very_ nice body.

 

“You're staring, Mister Spencer.” She removed her glasses, revealing stark white glass eyes. “I'm going to be your...psychic partner...in this case. These agents and the victim's co-worker are friends of mine. I will do everything in my power to solve this case.” She smiled directly at Shawn. “I hope you will too.”

 

Shawn bristled. The last part almost sounded like a challenge. If this blind lady wanted a challenge, she would get one.

 

“Ahem.” The Chief interrupted. “These are agents Tyler and...really? Am I reading this right?” The Chief glanced again at the shorter one's badge. “Perry? Agents Tyler and Perry. Forgive me, it just seems...unusual.” She smiled again.

 

The tall one nodded. “We get that all the time. People think it makes us jokes. Honestly, I think that's why our supervisor paired us together.” He laughed. Agent Tyler's voice was deceptively soft for such an incredibly tall man, just as Agent Perry's voice was oddly deep for someone so short. Or perhaps he was just short compared to his partner. It looked that way, at least.

 

Shawn heard a creak in the door. Another individual had entered. This one looked odd indeed. He was wearing a filthy white, or rather, off-white, trenchcoat and had wide, nearly blank, blue eyes. They were so bright and so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

 

“Okay! Really! Chief, what is this all about? Who is this joker? Are FBI agents paling around with dirty hobos now? Look at his coat!”

 

“Shawn! This man is a part of the FBI team with agents Tyler and Perry. He just finished with a very dirty investigation. I suggest you treat him with more respect.”

 

The trenchcoated man leaned forward and offered his hand. “I'm-that is-my name is, uh, Agent...” He trailed off and glanced at the shorter one, who was mouthing words to him. “Agent Shoe. Yes. Agent Shoe.”

 

Shawn noticed that the short agent looked disgruntled and amused at the same time. “Really? Shoe? You know what, I don't believe any of you are FBI agents! And you, you are NOT a psychic. You're just some blind chick who likes people to think you're psychic so you can steal their hard-earned money and give a bad name to real psychics, like me!”

 

The woman smiled. _Your secret is safe with me._ Shawn heard a soft, feminine whisper in his head. He gave the woman an odd look.

 

“If Shawn will allow me, I would like to demonstrate just how psychic I really am. Who would like me to read them?” She held out her hands. Shawn almost snorted. A palm reader, of all things.

 

“Well, this will be interesting.” Chief Vick held out her hands. The woman took them, turned them over several times, ran her fingers over the lines in Vick's palm and smiled, letting go. She sat back in her chair.

 

“You're married, you have a child, a daughter, you were only interim chief of police until awhile ago, you have blonde hair, pale skin, and are... _very_ attractive for a wife and mother. You've been getting much better sleep lately since your child is older.”

 

The woman tilted her head slightly. “I see she's preparing for her first day of school soon. Since I see she's six years old. You enrolled her in a private school because you feel public schools are too violent.” The blind woman smiled, almost smugly, and stood up. She turned her head toward Shawn and leaned down.

 

“Do you believe me now? Do you see what a real psychic is?” Her breath was hot from her close whisper and Shawn couldn't help but be a little bit turned on. The woman stood and turned toward the Chief.

 

“By the way, my name is Pamela Barnes. I've been a psychic all my life. Unlike this young man, whose gift did not awaken until much later. I have far more experience. I would like the opportunity to...teach him, if you do not mind.”

 

Chief Vick, still recovering from the shock of the amazing accuracy of the blind psychic simply nodded.

 

“Chief! I heard there were FBI agents here and I thought I could be-oh. They're here. Hello, Agents. I'm Detective Carlton Lassiter. Maybe you've heard of me.” Lassie seemed to stand taller and attempt to puff out his chest a bit.

 

The short agent gave him an odd look and glanced at the taller one. “Uh, no. I have no clue who Carlton Lassiter is. I'm not entirely sure I want to know.” This earned him a sharp kick from his partner, Agent Tyler. “Uh, that is, happy to work with you!” He gave Lassie a very fake smile and held out his hand. Lassie shook it with such happiness and vigor it was a wonder he didn't have a heart attack.

 

Shawn sighed. Lassie ALWAYS got way too excited when government agencies paid attention to him. However...Shawn noticed something in Lassie's face change when he shook hands with the agent. Almost...a darkness, of sorts. His delighted expression turned to one of confusion. He glared harshly at the short agent and shook his head, muttering something that sounded like 'not ready yet...not time' before asking to speak with the agents privately.

 

Chief Vick raised an eyebrow at Lassiter, but didn't deny him. She faked a cough. “Ahem. Agents. May I borrow your badges for a moment? I would like to...check credentials. We've had a rash of fake government agents lately, and it's just a quick check...”

 

“Oh! Of course!” Agent Tyler handed over his badge, gave Perry a kick when he wouldn't do so.

 

Vick looked the badges over and left the room, beckoning Shawn and Gus to leave as well and let Lassiter have his private chat with the agents, the mentally challenged trenchcoat man, and apparently the blind psychic. Shawn groaned.

 

“Hey, Chief, we wanted to eavesdrop. What the hell?”

 

“Just sit here, boys. I'll be back. I need to make sure of something.” Chief Vick headed toward a vacant office and picked up the phone.

 

She dialed the number for the agents' supervisor.

 

“Hello? FBI. What do you need? I'm busy!” The gruff voice on the other end of the line snarled.

 

Chief Vick let out a deep sigh and covered her face. “Bobby Singer. You're kidding me, right? This is one of...of YOUR kind of crimes. Which is why you sent your 'agents'...Sam and Dean Winchester, right?”

 

“Damn Idjits! Told them they need to stop using rock aliases...someone would eventually catch on. Balls! Dammit, Karen. You want them to leave?” Bobby sounded really tired and angry.

 

“Bobby...have you been drinking? No, never mind. I'm not your nursemaid. We haven't even seen each other since John's death. If...if this is your type of crime, I suppose it is best to let John's sons have at it...” Karen trailed off, heart wrenching at the thought of John.

 

She remembered when he'd come to Santa Barbara and stayed, for a long time, on a case he couldn't seem to solve. She remembered their one night together, how it felt in John's arms, what a tender lover such a tough, gruff, sarcastic man could be. That was when she knew she was truly in love with John, with all her heart.

 

Now...his son's, by his real true love, Mary, were here. She had known John would always love Mary, but it didn't matter. She would try to help his sons as if they were the ones she had wanted with John so long ago.

 

“Bobby...thank you. And thank you for sending Sam and Dean. It's more than I could have hoped for. Less people will die because of...of you, and John.” She heard the tears in her own voice, unable to stop them.

 

“Karen...my...my lady is there too. Jody. Your new detective. I've loved her since she helped me a few years ago. I had to convince her to go to Santa Barbara. It needs people like her. People who know what the real world is like. Take care of her, Karen. Tell her I'll be there when I'm done.”

 

There was a click and the line went dead.

 

Karen shook her head and put it in her hands. Bobby...John...his sons. She cried, for a long time, in that lonely vacant office. She felt a fresh wave of tears as she had forgotten to ask who the man in the trenchcoat was. Maybe one of John's illegitimate sons. _Oh, John...why did you have to die?_

 

 

 

 

 

_**Please R/R! Grammar issues don't bother me. I write fanfics, not books.** _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen gives a briefing on hunters and introduces Sam and Dean to the rest of her team. Crowley and Henry finally show up.

_**AN:** Karen/John, but only mentioned. Gus/Pamela hinted. If you haven't seen Supernatural Season 9, just assume that Lassiter is secretly a hunter as well. Would explain why he has all those damn guns. As for Woody...well, it will be explained. Rachel and Gus aren't an item here, so don't ask 'why is he hitting on Pamela when he's with Rachel?'. _

 

 

 

**Shawn's Guide To The Real Supernatural**

 

_Chapter 2_

 

 

As Karen walked to a vacant office to check the agents' credentials, Carlton Lassiter closed the door to the Chief's office behind him, leaving him alone with the agents. _Dammit. Not yet. Not damn yet._ He knew who they were, especially Dean Winchester. He felt it as soon as he'd gripped “Agent Perry”'s hand. His signature blade seemed to burn into his ribs.

 

Lassiter leaned over Vick's desk, fixing the three men with a glare.

 

“I knew it. I knew there would be a time when more hunters would come here. I just didn't expect the famous Winchester brothers.” Lassiter smirked at their stunned expressions. Pamela remained seated, smiling serenely.

 

The one he knew to be Dean stared at him in complete shock. “Wha-what the hell, man? Are you a hunter too?”

 

Lassiter nodded curtly. “I can take care of this myself. I may not have stopped the Apocalypse like you, but I'm no slacker when it comes to hunting.”

 

Carlton smiled. “I hear you have _the_ Colt. I would love to see it. That gun has been my dream ever since I started hunting.”

 

Dean laughed. “Sorry, man. I don't trust other hunters around my weapons. Besides, I lost the Colt awhile ago. You couldn't see it even if I wanted you to. How about you show me your favorite weapon?”

 

Lassiter frowned and gripped the sharp edge of the jawbone blade hidden tightly against his body. Not damn yet. It wasn't time. “Sorry. I don't trust other hunters either. Anyway, who _are_ these other people? I had always assumed Sam and Dean Winchester worked alone.”

 

Carlton's gazed traveled over trenchcoat guy and Pamela Barnes. Pamela was a psychic. A real psychic, unlike Shawn. That was the reason Lassiter was always so opposed to Shawn claiming he was a psychic. He knew real psychics. Always had. They saw who he really was and couldn't bear to touch him longer than a few seconds.

 

The tall one, Sam, glanced at trenchcoat man, who was very intently focused on a plastic houseplant, flicking the leaves and murmuring to it. _Really, what the hell?_ Lassiter himself would never have paired up with such an odd man. Well, that wasn't true. He and Woody worked together often. Woody was his only true hunting partner that he actually knew he could trust. Woody sometimes made Mr. Yang seem sane and calm, however.

 

“Uh, the man in the trenchcoat is named Castiel. Pamela already introduced herself. What more do you need to know?” Sam glanced at Dean, who was giving Detective Lassiter an odd look, almost hostile.

 

“What manner of monster is this Castiel? Humans don't act like that. Trust me, I know...and he can't be a demon. This entire precinct has demon warding sigils coating the walls and rock salt burned into the floor.” Lassiter gave Dean a glare back before turning to Castiel.

 

Castiel looked up from his ministrations on the fake plant. “Yes? How may I help you?” His blue eyes seemed to bore into Lassiter's soul. Lassie gasped, felt a sharp pain grip his chest, and looked away.

 

“Angel. It seems we have similar taste in partners. Although I think my angel knows a little bit more about humanity than yours.” Carlton forced a smile. _Please don't let Castiel tell them who I am._

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “YOUR angel? You have an angel here? Cas? Do you feel anything, or hear anything on angel radio?”

 

Castiel tilted his head to the side slightly, as if listening. “There is one who used to be an angel here, but now he is mortal, with only a slight amount of Grace left. I...that is, his Grace feels familiar to me, but I would need to be closer.”

 

“I suppose there's no time like the present. Let's go, before Chief Vick gets back.” Lassiter stood and lead them out the room to the morgue. Pamela waved them away as they offered to let her come, claiming that Castiel could read the body better than she, especially if it were a demon attack.

 

 

Elsewhere, Shawn and Gus were bored beyond imagining. The real cops were talking to the new agents, Chief Vick seemed to be...Shawn narrowed his eyes. Was she _crying?_ He wondered what had hurt the Chief so badly that she would just sob like that, out in the open. It wasn't his business. He turned to Gus.

 

“Hey, man, you wanna grab some tacos from that food truck outside? I'm sure it's still there.” Shawn sounded hopeful.

 

Gus was grinning and stroking his smooth, dark skull, still shining with that lavender oil he used daily. “Sorry, Shawn. Playas don't quit just cuz we're hungry. I'm gonna see if that hot chick likes dark chocolate.”

 

“Gus, she's blind! You could be Bilbo Baggins and I don't think she would notice!” Shawn moaned loudly.

 

“Sorry, Shawn. Gotta make my move now or never.” Gus straightened his already perfectly ironed and straight shirt and smoothed his head again. “See ya later. With my new lady.” He held his hand out for a fist bump, but Shawn just glared at him and slapped his hand away.

 

“I'm going to find Jules. She might want to do something with me!” He sounded whiny and childish, and he knew it, but dammit, no one wanted to play with him!

 

Gus swaggered up to Pamela, who was now sitting on a bench outside Vick's empty office. He smiled and sat down next to her. “So, heard about Pluto yet? That's messed up, baby.” Damn. He really needed a new pick up line.

 

Pamela turned her glassy white eyes toward him. “Actually, I have not. Surely it hasn't vanished. The spirits would have told me.” She smiled at him, a real smile, not one of those fake smiles women who use him give.

 

“Well, see, they decided that Pluto isn't a planet anymore. I mean, what's that all about, babe? They ruined my childhood!” For the first time in his life, Gus actually had to try and explain his pickup line.

 

“Really? That's very interesting. The universe still thinks of it as a planet, however, if you wish to continue thinking of it as such.” Pamela gave him a mischievous smile before reaching over and pinching his thigh. She leaned over and whispered into his ear. “I love dark chocolate, by the way.”

 

Gus felt his breath hitch. This gorgeous woman actually wasn't dropping him like an anchor. She was very intelligent, he knew, passionate, and forward.

 

“So, Pammy, can I call you Pammy? Can you read me? Tell me about myself?” Gus wriggled his eyes at her, even though it was pointless.

 

“I prefer Pamela, honestly, but if you must use some other name, call me Pam. My friend is called Sammy, and it could get confusing. As for reading you...I don't do that with men I'm attracted to. Usually I do this.”

 

Pamela pulled him close and squeezed one of his ass cheeks. “Tight and soft. Perfect. I like my men with an ass like yours.”

 

Gus smiled. “Heh heh. I like an ass like yours, too, baby.” He pulled Pamela into a kiss, her lips hot and sweet against his own, but tingly, as if there was something electric about her. It just made it better. Pamela gripped him tighter and continued the kiss.

 

“Ahem. Guster? What are you doing with our other psychic consultant? You should know such things should only be done _outside of work!_ ” Chief Vick's angry voice interrupted them.

 

Pamela smiled and turned her head toward Vick. “I started, Chief. If you're going to punish anyone, punish me. Of course, the agents and I are a package deal.”

 

Gus looked at Vick and was stunned. Her eyes were bright red and puffy, as if she'd been crying very hard, hurt so bad that nothing could fix it. Vick glared at Gus's stare. He nodded at her and pointedly looked away. He noticed Shawn had found Jules and was whining to her about something. Poor Jules looked beyond exasperated.

 

“Guster, just...if you and Miss Barnes must engage in romantic acts, please don't do it in the precinct.” Vick sighed softly and went to her own office.

 

Karen sat down at her desk and opened the locked bottom drawer. There were two pictures here. Two pictures that meant everything to her. John Winchester by himself, and a picture of a lovely blond little girl with John's eyes. Karen's eyes welled again. _Their_ daughter. The beautiful little blonde girl who Karen had given up.

 

She had known her first daughter, John Winchester's daughter, would never be truly safe without John around to protect her. She had given her daughter up for adoption as soon as she was born. She'd only looked into the baby's eyes, _John's_ eyes once.

 

She loved her new daughter and her husband more than the world itself, but she couldn't stop loving John or their own daughter, even though she was likely grown now, several years younger than Sam.

 

Karen shook her head and rifled through some of John's notes, not love notes, because she knew he hadn't loved her truly, but hunter notes. Notes about non-human monsters.

 

Karen didn't hunt, nor did she want to, but she knew that Lassiter did. He tried to keep it secret, but Karen knew a hunter when she saw one. It was how she had instantly known what Sam and Dean were, but it took Bobby to confirm who they were.

 

She pulled out a very old book written in a language John hadn't understood. It had taken her years, but Karen had eventually translated it. It was just the Bible story of Cain and Abel, but with some very unusual changes.

 

There was even a drawing of the First Blade, the ass's jawbone that Cain had used to kill his brother and become the first murderer, the first criminal. According to the translation, Cain's blade was the only thing capable of killing literally anything, except God and Reapers. There was a loud smacking sound outside her door. She almost dropped the book. She quickly stored it away and locked the drawer.

 

Karen sighed in irritation. Henry Spencer had somehow managed to smash into her door like birds smash into windows. Karen got up and unlocked it.

 

“What is this Henry? Why are you here?” _Please don't let Henry be a hunter too. If he is, I've messed up big time with my hunter radar._

 

“Karen! This weird man showed up at my house! He drank all my good whiskey and ate the fish I just caught! He also kept asking if I wanted things, and then he mentioned his friends taking care of something here. I know he followed me, I just don't know how. I felt like I was being watched the whole way! Arrest this asshole, Karen!” Henry took a deep breath and finally fell silent.

 

“Oh, hello, Henry. Karen.” The newcomer raised a glass of dark whiskey in a toast and sipped it. “Good. Where are Moose and Dean? And that useless slab of meat, Castiel? It took a lot to get in here. Do you know how many damn wards I had to erase!? You know Henry, you aren't that bad looking. You have a lot of potential. I can give you your hair back. All you have to do is make a deal with-”

 

“SHUT. UP! Both of you! Henry, whatever you do, do NOT make any deals with this man. You, deal guy, stop it. Just stop it. Or I'll introduce you to Detective Lassiter and our coroner. Along with Sam and Dean.”

 

Karen felt her sadness had immediately melted away when confronted with an obnoxious Henry and an even more obnoxious person she knew to be a Crossroads demon. The precinct was becoming a supernatural madhouse! For some reason, Shawn and Gus had actually managed to stay out of most of it.

 

Another Spencer had gotten involved, of course. Karen believed that they could handle the truth. All of them, even Jules, though Karen had always felt so protective of her that she hadn't wanted her involved with anything supernatural. Hunters were there to protect people like her from things that went bump in the night. As John had said, “Saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

 

It was time to come clean. Time for Lassiter, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Woody, and the demon to introduce their true selves to the rest of the team. They would never solve this case if everyone were at each other's throats or suspicious of each other. Karen knew she could trust her team absolutely. Even the delinquents Shawn and Gus. Gus was already flirting with that psychic woman, Pamela.

 

“Henry, uhm, other guy-” Karen was interrupted immediately by the demon.

 

“My name is Crowley. Not 'other guy'. I don't appreciate being talked down to.”

 

“Right. Henry, Crowley, sit down. I need to get our team in here. There is a lot we need to talk about.”

 

 

**R/R please! More Shawn and Gus next chapter. This part was a set up for character introductions. And an excuse to have Henry and Crowley meet.**

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen begins her briefing on the supernatural, but is interrupted when Woody is attacked by Dean and Castiel.

_**AN:** Karen's briefing on the supernatural, with help from Lassiter and the Winchesters. Some Shawn PoV, but again ends up being mostly Lassiter and Karen again. Shawn WILL get his day in the limelight, because it's HIS guide to the supernatural after all. Woody gets attacked by multiple people in this chapter. Heheh._

 

 

 

**Shawn's Guide to the Real Supernatural**

 

_Chapter 3_

 

 

Shawn impatiently sat in an uncomfortable chair that Karen had apparently improvised for this briefing. Every single person from their team was in the room, except for Woody and Lassiter. Even McNab was present, although sometimes people considered him more useless than Shawn.

 

Shawn sighed and glanced at Gus. His oldest and blackest friend was actually sitting far away from Shawn, his right hand rubbing the blind woman's leg sensually.

 

_Really? Gus apparently only has true game with blind chicks._

 

“Come on, Chief! We don't need the creepy coroner and the useless Detective! Just tell us all why we're here!” Shawn pouted, which earned him a glare from Henry and an amused look from the fancily dressed man sitting so close to Henry that he was practically in his lap.

 

“Shawn, I think we can take alllll the time we need. I, for one, am enjoying my waiting.” Gus grinned and wriggled his eyebrows, squeezing Pamela's thigh.

 

“Gus! Please. You always do this! Don't let a woman distract you from what's important. I mean, what if she's another psycho trying to murder you? Have you forgotten your type?” Shawn tried to reason with his best friend, who just ignored him and went back to inappropriately touching Pamela, who seemed to be touching him back, but even MORE inappropriately.

 

“Boys! Please. Be silent for just a few more moments. Soon, everything will be made clear, trust me.” Karen had stood up and was glaring at Shawn and Gus, and for some reason,the FBI agents, who looked confused but apparently had also been mumbling to each other.

 

Karen sat down again, rubbing her head. Just being this close to John's sons was giving her a headache. Especially after Lassiter had informed her that the tall one had psychic powers too. Just not as developed as Pamela's. She wondered what was taking Lassiter and Woody so long, before they finally opened the door.

 

As soon as Woody crossed the threshold, Castiel and Dean Winchester leapt up and lunged for the coroner. Wood fell to his knees with his hands over his head.

 

“Please don't hurt me! It wasn't my fault, I swear, it was Michael's. He made me do it, really! I don't wanna die!” Woody was near tears. Likely because Castiel already had a brilliant silver knife against Woody's neck.

 

“Strode, what is this all about?” Karen asked.

 

“I-I can explain! I-I found Lassiter and we started hunting together. I'm an angel! Lassiter is-” Woody was cut off when Lassiter pulled a blade that looked like an animal bone and held it to Woody's cheek.

 

“Th-that is...I saw he was a hunter, a non-Winchester hunter...and we started trying to stop evil together! I swear I've changed, Dean, Sam, Castiel, I promise! I don't even have many powers anymore! I can heal people and sense things, but that's it! It was Michael's punishment and Ca-Lassiter's agreement! Oh god. I can't die now! There are so many episodes of My Little Pony I haven't seen! I mean, what happens after she messes up everyone's Cute Marks?” Woody was babbling now.

 

Karen's lips twitched. Apparently Woody and Lassiter had an agreement that he would never call Lassiter Carlton. She'd noticed how quickly Woody/the angel had switched names mid-sentence.

 

“Okay, everyone, sit. Down. Dean, Castiel, put your gun and your knife away. Lassiter, whatever you're stroking Woody's cheek with, put it back from wherever it came from. It looks creepy.” Karen heaved a pained sigh. This was turning into a circus.

 

Lassiter forced a grin and did as he was told. Castiel blinked a few times, glared at Woody again and his blade simply vanished.

 

Dean, however, did not so much as lower his weapon from Woody's chest until his obviously more rational brother, Sam, came over and gently grabbed the end of Dean's gun, softly murmuring something to him. Apparently whatever Sam said had convinced Dean because he holstered the gun.

 

Woody heaved a deep sigh and sank to the ground in a sweaty heap. “Oh, good, thank you thank you! Now I get to see if Twilight Sparkle really does become a princess!”

 

Karen ignored Woody's gasping and babbling about his usual odd stuff and turned toward the ones who had tried to attack him.

 

“Okay, one of you tell me what that was all about. NOT you, Castiel. I'm not sure you even know why you're here, let alone why you attacked my coroner.” She interrupted Castiel when he'd started to open his mouth. “Dean Winchester, Agent Whatever. Come clean.”

 

Dean swallowed and glared at both Woody and Crowley, even though the demon had yet to do anything. “Let's just say, uh, Woody, tried to make me do something that would have caused the world to end and leave it that.”

 

“ _WHAT. THE. HELL. Is everyone talking about? Oh my gosh I am so confused right now!”_ Shawn shouted, covering his head in anger.

 

“You know, I have to agree with Shawn. What IS all of this about, and please, don't hold back.” Juliet crossed her arms and sat down on Shawn's lap, a grim look on her face.

 

Karen forced a pained smile. What she was about to tell some of the most important people in the world to her would rock them to the core. “The supernatural is real. Demons are real. Angels are real. And so are the people who hunt them. Yes, this also means that psychics are real.”

 

Shawn and Juliet laughed. “What day is this? Does anyone have a calendar? Is it April Fool's Day?” Shawn asked. He could not believe a lick of this. He knew psychics didn't exist. The closest people came to being psychic was being super observant, or like Pamela, knowing things before hand.

 

“No, Mr. Spencer. It's real. All of it. I've known about it for a very long time. Ever since I met a man named John. John Winchester.” Her gaze focused on Sam and Dean, who looked stunned beyond belief.

 

“You...you knew our dad? You and John were..close? He never...never mentioned you. He did mention how his hunt in Santa Barbara was one of his favorites, most important, but he never mentioned a name, not even in his journal.” This was from Sam, the calmer, more rational brother. Dean still seemed in shock.

 

Karen blinked back unexpected tears. He may not have mentioned her name, but he had thought the time he'd been with her one of his most important hunts. _Oh, my dear John...I wish I could see you, just one last time. Your sons, especially the shorter one, looks just like you. How can I look at Dean this long without crying over you?_

 

Karen shook her head and focused on Sam, the one that apparently looked more like their mother. The only thing of John she could see in Sam was the determined set of his face. Dean....Dean had his eyes, his hair, his mannerisms, everything. Dean was John Jr. in so many ways. She bet if she'd asked Sam, he would tell her the same.

 

“Karen,” said Lassiter gently, apparently noticing her pain, “Do you want me to continue the briefing?” His voice was oddly soft and delicate compared to his usual gruff, harsh voice.

 

Karen simply nodded wordlessly. Lassiter moved to the front of the room and set up a projector the Karen had pulled into the room for this. The hunter/detective slid a slide Karen had prepared on the projector and flipped it on.

 

Dean and Sam stifled a gasp, while the non-hunters looked at it as if it were just a pretty painting.

 

“Oh dear, must you do that? It does pain me so. And I would have thought you as well...” Crowley's smirking face sneered in Lassiter's face. Henry once again tried to push Crowley off his lap, to no avail.

 

Lassiter ignored Crowley, desperately hoping the demon King of Hell wouldn't reveal Lassiter's ultimate secret just quite yet. Or ever. Lassiter sighed.

 

“This,” He pointed to the painting, “is a demon warding sigil. It is used to cast out, keep away, and trap demons. Yes, real demons. Some demons, such as Knights of Hell and the King of Hell are somewhat immune to these. As Mr. Crowley, the man sitting on Henry Spencer's lap, demonstrates. As King of Hell, the presence of the sigil has no noticeable effect on him beyond some annoyance.”

 

Shawn held up his hand as if he were back in grade school. “Lassie, what proof do you have that this dude with the hots for my dad really is a demon. I mean, beyond the fact that he has the hots for my dad.”

 

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “Mr. Crowley, would you be so kind to show them? It would save a lot of time if we had instant proof, really?”

 

Crowley sneered again. “Why, oh great Knight, do you not show them?”

 

Lassiter bristled. “You will show them. Or I'll make you wish you'd never been born.” His voice was down to a whisper now, but apparently he had scared Crowley enough, somehow.

 

“Look, if no one is going to give em proof of demons, allow me.” Dean Winchester unholstered a pistol and aimed it directly at Crowley's head.

 

“Okay, okay! Bollocks! I'll be your sideshow for now. But you know me, Dean, Moose, _Lassie,”_ Crowley laughed at the last one.

 

He eyes burned scarlet for a few moments before a gaping chasm of scarlet and flame smoke streaked out of his mouth. The smoke hovered in the air for a few moments while 'Crowley' had dropped to the floor. Lassiter checked for a pulse.

 

“Can anyone explain this? The man is dead. If there are any non-believers now, feel free and check his pulse.” No one took up Lassie's offer, not even the now-terrified Shawn.

 

With a flare, the scarlet smoke engulfed the 'dead' body of Crowley, quickly entering his mouth like it had just left it. With an abrupt jerk, Crowley sat up and crawled into the chair near Henry. Henry let out a sigh of relief. That thing wasn't sitting on his lap anymore!

 

“That was interesting, wasn't boys and girls? Do you believe I'm a demon now, or do I need to possess one of you to prove it further?” Crowley waved a hand and conjured a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He poured one for himself and one for Henry, who regarded it dubiously.

 

“Oh, come now, Henry, my man. Best whiskey this side of Hell.” Crowley pushed the glass toward Henry. Henry eyed it warily as he took a sip. His eyes widened and he drank the rest of it down with ease. Crowley poured him another shot.

 

“Okay, everyone. We have proof demons exist. Do we need proof that angels and other preternatural beings exist or do you all believe yet?” Lassiter impatiently tapped his foot.

 

“WE BELIEVE YOU!” Shawn and Gus shouted together. Juliet nodded in shock.

 

“Now that we have that shit off the table, why don't you tell us why this was so important that your whole police office know about it? Huh? What type of superbeing killed this person?” Dean snarled.

 

Lassiter sighed. “That, my fellow hunters, is what I was hoping you could tell me.”

 

“We need to see the body first. So, Zach, you want to do the job you have NOW and show us the way?” Dean once again glared at Woody, calling him Zach for some reason.

 

Castiel stood and approached Woody. “Zachariah. How did you survive the wrath of Michael? I would know this.” The normally dull-witted seeming angel had finally spoke up.

 

Woody whimpered and sank to the floor again. “Please, Castiel, I was telling the truth! I hated humans so much. Being stuck as one would be an even worse punishment for me than death. Michael knew how I felt. So he locked me in my vessel. There's no one in here now, so don't think I'm stuck possessing some bastard. But I love it now. Being human is the best thing that ever happened to me! Believe me, please, Castiel.” He covered his head.

 

Castiel blinked several times, glanced back at Dean, apparently for a cue on what to do. When Dean just glared, Castiel turned back to Woody.

 

“Your punishment does not befit your crimes, as you have come to enjoy being stuck as a human, but in Michael's, and your, defense, you and this other hunter have saved many lives. More than the deaths you were responsible for as Zachariah. I hope to once again become your friend, Woody Strode.”

 

Castiel smiled and held out his hand to Woody. Woody took is gratefully, sobbing about My Little Pony again. Dean forced his way over and angrily ripped Castiel away from Woody. “He's mine, Zach. Not yours. Ever.” Dean glared.

 

“So, mate, what's YOUR story? How did you get into hunting?” Crowley smirked evilly at Lassiter.

 

Lassiter fixed Crowley with a look that sent chills down the King of Hell's spine. “My brother was being corrupted by a demon. I killed him before the corruption became so deep that he would go to your realm when he died. I killed him to send him to paradise. I loved my brother more than anything, and I would do anything, give up anything, to save his eternal soul from the Pit.”

 

Crowley gulped and turned to ask Henry something. Clearly, Lassiter didn't want to talk about his past and hated demons. A lot.

 

 

**R/R. What attacked Jody's friend will be revealed in the next chapter.**

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out about Lassiter's crime, Karen becomes too distraught to continue while Woody and Lassiter eventually lead Sam and Dean to the attack, which baffles them. Nothing they'd ever seen could do something like what attacked Jody's friend.

_**AN:** Sorry, person who wanted Sam/Dean/Cas Pov. This is in the Psych category for a reason. It is focusing on the Psych characters dealing with the supernatural, not Sam and Dean. Perhaps later, if enough people want the others to have a chapter, I might give them one, but for now, this is dealing with the Psych cast and their reactions to the SN. I do not have a designated season for Supernatural here. Just assume it at least takes place after Sam gets his soul back in S6 if you need the information. As for Castiel, yes, he's loopy here. Somehow, he lost his powers and part of his sanity. Don't ask why. If you know what a Ferali is, kudos to you._

 

 

**Shawn's Guide to the Real Supernatural**

 

_Chapter 4_

 

 

Karen gaped openly at Lassiter. This man, whose entire life was putting away murderers and criminals, had openly admitted to killing his own brother. Since a demon was involved, Karen almost wanted to give him a pass. Still, he had committed murder.

 

Fratricide, of all things. She'd seen the way Lassiter doted on Marlowe, and on his little “accident” sister and couldn't imagine ANY reason for him to have killed his brother, younger or older.

 

Karen shook her head at Lassiter, trying to sort through her emotions. John's sons, demon Kings, and finding out Lassiter was a murderer all in the same day was almost too much for the Chief. Henry saw her expression and leaned over the desk, nailing Crowley in the crotch with one of his neon green sandals as he did so.

 

The demon king, however, merely groaned with pleasure, muttering something that sounded like “so you like it rough, eh” before pinching Henry's ass. Henry ignored this.

 

“Karen...I won't blame if you want to slip out in all this chaos. Everyone's arguing with everyone else, no one knows who's who...get out of here, Karen. Call your husband. Talk to Iris.” Henry forced a smile.

 

“If you're in pain, just go. I may be in the dark about this supernatural crap, but my new stalker is the King of Hell. I'm sure I could get him to tell us some things.” Henry smiled slightly at her.

 

Karen gazed at Henry with thanks. She whispered, “I owe you, Henry Spencer, I really do.”

 

The Chief of police stood up quietly and slipped out one of the side doors.

 

Lassiter watched Karen leave and sighed. He was hoping she could get over losing John Winchester long enough to work with his sons and solve this...hunt....thing...circus.

 

He shook his head over everyone arguing. Somehow, Henry had taken charge and was screaming at everyone to shut the hell up or he'd get his new friend to toast everyone.

 

“This so won't work. No one ever listens to Henry, not even his own son,” Lassiter mumbled to himself, everything landed on him, once again. He opened his mouth to tell everyone to shut the hell up before he was surprised and beaten to the punch by calm, quiet, rational Sam Winchester.

 

“Would everyone please just SHUT UP FOR FIVE SECONDS!? This is new to most of you. Let us go see the body, and then, if there are anymore questions, you can read some of the books I brought, okay?”

 

Sam held up a huge sack that Lassiter had assumed was filled with guns. Sam opened the bag, displaying a combination of heavy firearms and even heavier books.

 

“Great, one of those hunters that only hunts information. Can you even use a gun?” Lassiter scoffed.

 

Sam smiled grimly.

 

“I can shoot extremely well, but if I put my mind to it, I don't need a gun.” Sam's eyes bored into Lassiter's. Lassiter sank to his knees, suddenly suffering the worse migraine he'd ever suffered in his long life.

 

Suddenly the pain lifted and he noticed Sam staring at him in confusion.

 

“Well. That's never happened before. I...suppose there's a first time for everything...” Sam muttered, shaking his head and wiping at the blood flowing out of his nose.

 

“Dude, stop that. You said no more psychic shit, remember?” Dean said aggressively, punching Sam furiously in the shoulder.

 

“Dean! That hurt, you asshole!” Sam snarled.

 

“What is happening here?” Added Castiel, an even more confused look than usual on his pretty face.

 

“SHUT UP CASTIEL!” The brothers screamed at the exact same time.

 

Castiel blinked. “Okay. I will speak with Zachariah.” He walked over to Woody and asked if he knew how to use a cell phone, because such a thing was incredibly hard to learn. At least for Castiel.

 

“Okay, is everyone okay? Good. Body. Let's go. Wait. Everyone except you, Crowley and...the guy you're hitting on.” Sam added.

 

“You can't leave me here with this guy! He's going to try and do things to me!” Henry protested.

 

“Come on, dad, not on your best day. Even the King of Hell has standards. I hope.” Shawn wrinkled his nose at his father and Crowley before following Sam and Lassiter out of the room.

 

The others followed, Dean and Castiel last. Dean had had to figure out a way to convince Castiel that what they were going to look at was important, which took awhile.

 

As soon as they entered the coroner's room, the smell hit them first. Dean gagged but, having had way too much experience with this stuff, just covered his nose with his shirt and started examining the body with tools. Gus immediately found a pail and vomited. Shawn laughed. “Good job, Guts.”

 

“You use your Super Sniffer on it and try not to vomit! Oh wait, you don't have a Super Sniffer.” Gus glared at Shawn, who was still giggling. He forced back more laughter as he turned to look at the body.

 

Shawn stumbled back, almost falling over Gus's vomit buck in the process. “Oh, dear god, what is that?”

 

“See, Shawn? I told you so.” Gus mocked from his position of bending over the bucket.

 

Ignoring the two delinquents, Carlton picked up the coroner's blade and moved aside most of the cloth covering the rest of the body. He blinked. What the bloody Hell? It definitely looked like claw marks,

 

HUGE claw marks. No monster he'd seen before could do this, not even dragons in their true forms. Maybe a Leviathan, but they were still in Purgatory.

 

“I've never seen anything like this.” Lassiter whispered in shock.

 

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “Neither have we.”

 

“Can anyone tell me anything!? I just...just need to know what happened to him.” Jody Mills was sobbing from the opened door. “Don't try to keep me out of this investigation, even when it inevitably turns into a hunt. This man was one of my best friends!”

 

“Detective Mills! You shouldn't be here! You don't have to see him like this. I-here. Dial the last number on my cell phone. Talk to him. He misses you.”

 

Karen handed Jody her phone, hoping a conversation with Bobby would help. It had always helped Karen, after all. Jody looked at the phone skeptically. “Bobby...? Did he...did he mention me?”

 

Karen nodded and smiled and Jody, gesturing for her to leave the room and talk to her beloved Bobby.

 

“I've never seen claws like this. Not on dragons, not demons, not even Knights of Hell or the King of Hell himself.” Luckily, Crowley wasn't around, so he could say this without earning a glare.

 

“I would say Leviathan, but they tend to eat their victims completely, with nothing left behind...” Lassiter trailed off at the looks on Sam and Dean's faces.

 

He sighed. “Leviathans...well, nevermind. They're trapped for now, we don't have to worry about the, trust me.”

 

Sam and Dean raised an eyebrow each. “How certain are you that these things are truly trapped forever?” Dean asked.

 

“I'd swear it on my brother's soul. I would have...that is, Woody, would have felt it if they'd escaped. What little angelic power he has left is far more than enough to feel the presence of a Leviathan.” Lassiter explained.

 

Lassiter continued, “This man is gutted. JUST gutted. Meaning, whatever did this, did it for no reason other than for laughs. Meaning we're dealing with one sick monster. Human or otherwise, although I'd bet my right arm that it's otherwise.”

 

Woody nodded and carefully ran his hands over the body, not touching it, using his angel senses. “Castiel, would you mind helping try to sense what did this? I'm...lacking in power, as are you, but together, maybe we can come up with something.”

 

Cas reluctantly joined Woody at the table and ran his hands over the body., face locked in concentration. He licked his lips in irritation. Apparently they were getting no results.

 

Woody suddenly gasped and pulled back, along with Castiel. Woody looked at Lassiter, a stunned expression on his face. Cas repeated the look, except his was directed at Dean.

 

“Such a thing has never been seen on Earth for thousands of years. Ferali. They're created from the dead bodies and souls of humans, twisted until they can stand no more pain and agony.” Castiel continued.

 

“Not even Crowley would commit such heinous crimes. We must find out if this being will become a Ferali if it awakens or if merciful death has been granted.” Castiel prayed over the corpse and make the sign of the cross, flicking droplets of holy water on the corpse.

 

Woody also prayed over the corpse, murmuring words in Enochian. Lassiter ran his hands over the top of the body, using the smallest bit of power he could without getting noticed to bind the creature to this world until it could enter the next. This one would not rise as Ferali. Lassiter had heard of them. Had seen them. Hell, he had even helped _create_ them.

 

This was not to be borne. Who ever was doing this had to be stopped. The King of Hell had to be questioned. Only he and the Knights of Hell had the power to do this, unless someone had bargained for the power with one of the Old Ones, one of the Leviathans, or Eve.

 

 

**R/R. Short chapter, I know. Gimme some more inspiration, please. I'm running low!**


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